Why I Paint
When stories about my toddlerhood surface, the fact that I was an “early talker” often arises along with some of the words in my first vocabulary - a stand out being “outside.” An infamous morning ritual of mine was to stand by the big glass windows in our dining room that looked out into our backyard and the fields and mountains beyond while smacking my little hands on the glass and chanting, “Outside!”
What was true then is still true now, outside is where I want to be. Growing up in a rural, green area was a gift. I treasured the landscapes and “secret spots” my younger brother and I explored around where I grew up. Turning over rocks, splashing through creeks, collecting leaves and stones, picking wild blackberries and the little red tea berries native to Northeastern Pennsylvania were hallmark moments of my childhood.
Being outdoors was like delving into an infinitely fascinating museum with novel specimens and artifacts everywhere we looked and fortunately for me, that hasn’t changed. I love the way a simple walk in the woods can show me a new insect, plant or flower and how landscapes new and old can take my breath away when the light hits them just right.
I discovered that through painting I could finally share the beauty and feeling of natural spaces that I can’t express with words alone. Painting has given me the language to share the way the wild has impacted me most while creating pieces that bring respite, wonder and awe into the lives and homes of others and for that I am forever grateful.
Spending time exploring in nature is an essential aspect of my creative practice. I love how every time I’m in the great outdoors I’m introduced to another one of nature’s little miracles in the swarming cauldron of life that’s always waiting for us just outside our doorstep.
My Story
Growing up, my mom did a lot of arts and crafts with my brother and I. She is a talented painter and she helped me discover my love for painting, too. The joy I got from painting, whether it be on a terracotta pot, a t-shirt, or a picnic table in need of a pick-me-up (we had ‘under the sea’ and ‘night sky’ themed picnic tables in the backyard throughout my childhood) was always so singular and indescribable. It felt like time stopped, and I got to be in a world of my own making filled with all the colors I loved - a space where I could play without the fear of consequences because if I didn’t like something I could just paint over it and start again.
As I got older my priorities began to shift, from seeking the most joy, fun, and flow to figuring out how to pay for the life I wanted and with that shift I let go of painting for a while. But, as true things do, painting called me to return and now, I’m happy to report, there’s no end to our relationship in sight. The other thing that has called me back to it after some time away is wilderness itself. In mid 2024 my husband Derek and I moved to Mount Shasta, CA to be reunited with the wide open spaces and lush landscapes similar to those I grew up in - but with much higher mountains - and we couldn’t be happier.